


Girl (and Guy), Interrupted

by MachaSWicket



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, S4 wishful thinking, tumblr prompt responses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY:  <i>Once Oliver returned to her, they were just… together. No big discussions, it just fell into place. It just felt normal and basically how her life should always be.  Felicity never thought to call Barry or make some big announcement to him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl (and Guy), Interrupted

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Agree about wanting s4 stuff. How about olicity telling Barry and the central city squad they're together when they come to town for another team up mission!

It’s not that Felicity is embarrassed about her relationship with Oliver.

She’s the opposite of embarrassed, to be truthful. If it weren’t for the inevitable headlines like _Castaway Heartthrob Oliver Queen Shacks Up with Former Assistant_ or, like, _Sexy Secretary Smoak Snags Oliver Queen_ , she’d kind of want to shout it from the rooftops. Because Oliver loves her, and she loves him, and they are together.

The both of them are smiling entirely too much to be subtle about this newfound happiness. But still. They are trying to be professional when they’re in public or working in the new, not-actually-a-foundry foundry. No declarations of love (but heart-eyes are okay) and no PDA (Oliver breaks this rule every single night).

So, no. She hasn’t been _telling_ people. The important people already know -- Diggle’s known since Nanda Parbat. Thea, too. And Laurel figured out most of it when Felicity broke down and cried all over her. 

Then once Oliver returned to her, they were just... _together_. No big discussions, it just fell into place. It just felt normal and basically how her life should always be. 

Felicity never thought to call Barry or make some big announcement to him.

So when Barry shows up unexpectedly in Starling, Caitlin and Cisco en route by slower, more conventional means, Felicity answers her door in hastily-pulled-on shorts and a tank top, expecting it to be their food delivery. “I’m so glad you’re-- Barry!”

He hugs her tight, grinning. “And I’m so glad you’re Felicity,” he answers. And then he freezes against her, and she knows exactly what’s happened, _exactly_ what he’s seen. 

She pulls back and turns. And – yup. Oliver is standing in the middle of her living room in jeans and not much else. Because his shirt is somewhere on her bedroom floor and she has no idea where his shoes are, because who cares about shoes? Not that the location of his clothes is important right now, since his state of undress is really all the announcement necessary to proclaim the shift in their relationship.

Sheepishly, Felicity turns back to Barry, who’s standing stock still just a couple steps inside her front door. And he’s gaping at them, his eyes flicking between the two of them as he assimilates this new information. 

Meanwhile, the look on Oliver’s face is positively smug. Felicity crosses to him and smacks his arm. “Stop preening, Oliver,” she hisses. 

He huffs a laugh, his arm slipping around her waist, his hand landing on her hip with just a hint of possession. Totally unapologetic, he gives Barry a nod. “Barry.”

Barry is still a little wide-eyed, but manages, “Oliver. Hi. So you’re-- I mean, you two...?”

Felicity opens her mouth to explain, maybe even to apologize for not telling Barry sooner, but Oliver beats her to it with a simple, somehow slightly smug, “Yup.”

When Barry narrows his eyes and shifts, crossing his arms as he stares at them, Felicity has no idea what’s happening. She can tell he’s amused and trying to hide it, but she is in no way prepared for his next words. “I thought guys like us don’t get the girl,” Barry challenges, his eyes on Oliver.

Felicity blinks, even as Oliver gives a careless little shrug behind her. She’s trying to figure out what Barry’s talking about, what Oliver could possibly have said to him and when. And _why_. But then she whirls on Oliver, because-- “ _The girl_ ,” she repeats angrily and Oliver’s eyes go wide with something akin to panic. “Did you seriously dismiss any possibility of this great thing between us by referring to me as _the girl_?”

Oliver reaches for her, his fingers skimming along her upper arms before she takes a big step back. “Felicity--”

But she is not trying to hear his apologies just yet. Instead, she turns on Barry. “And you -- did you ask _Oliver Queen_ for romantic advice?” Because that is just the epitome of poor decision-making.

Barry is shaking his head so fast his features blur a little bit. “No, no -- Oliver offered up some unsolicited--”

“And you _listened_ to him?” she interrupts.

“Felicity,” Oliver tries again, “I was just--”

“No,” she tosses over her shoulder, “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” She turns back to Barry. “Oliver is the _last_ person you should listen to about relationships. Do you see how long it took us to get here? That’s because Mr. Self-Sacrificing back there--”

“Hey!” Oliver protests.

“--was unable to understand that I _love_ him.” She steps closer to Barry, takes his hand in hers. “Barry, I know it’s different with you and Iris. I know our situations aren’t exactly the same, but please, _please_ forget anything Oliver told you about _getting the girl_.” She can’t help the sarcastic twist on that phrase; doesn’t even try. “First, because Iris is great and her own woman with wants and needs and not some kind of _prize_ that you can _get_.” 

“Felicity,” Oliver tries again. “It’s just an expression. I--”

“And second,” she presses on, a little louder to drown out Oliver, “because he is wrong. Love is important,” she says, her tone softening. Because she’s always know this part, but now? Living it? She just wants everyone to feel like this. She wants Barry to be happy and grounded and _loved_. Loved in the wholehearted, selfless way that Oliver loves her. “Loving someone makes you _stronger_ , not weaker.”

Familiar arms come around her waist, and then Oliver’s firm chest is against her back. She should probably push away -- because, seriously, _guys like us don’t get the girl!?_ \-- but she’s also kind of comfortable here in his arms. 

“She’s right,“ Oliver says. “About the important stuff, she’s right. She always is.”

Felicity’s hands cover his on her stomach, even as she scoffs at him. “Don’t even try to sweet talk me. I still have a bone to pick with you.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she closes her eyes, realizing the golden opportunity she’s presented him.

Oliver laughs and presses a kiss to her temple before bringing his lips close to her ear.

Before he can whisper anything dirty about _bones_ or how much she loves his sweet talk _in bed_ , Barry takes a large step back toward the door. “I’m gonna– This is a lot of information and I don’t really need more of this--” he waves a hand in their direction-- “so I’m just gonna–”

“No, Barry,” Felicity interrupts. “We ordered Indian food. Stay and have dinner with us.” She elbows Oliver lightly. “I promise he’ll put on a shirt.”

“Right,” Oliver agrees amiably. Too amiably, so she’s already tensing for what’s going to come next when he adds, “As soon as you tell me where you threw it when you--”

“Oliver!” Her cheeks are bright red and Barry has actually _face-palmed_ in reaction to Oliver’s words. Or more probably the vivid imagery his words painted. It’s a great image -- a great memory, actually -- but Felicity isn’t really into sharing what they have between them, so she straightens her spine and says, “Barry, I’m sorry. We’ll be good. Really.”

Oliver’s arms tighten around her for a second, and then he releases her, heading to the bedroom to get a little bit more dressed. And if she watches him walk away, well, who can blame her?

“Felicity,” Barry says softly.

She turns back to her friend, who looks mostly happy, a little embarrassed, and definitely a bit melancholy. “Yeah, Barry?”

He gives her a grin. “I’m really happy for you both.”

She wants the same for him -- happiness and love -- but she’s been in his position and she knows the sentiment, while heartfelt, is better left unexpressed. So she simply nods. “Thank you, Barry.”

END


End file.
